


whatever this world can give to me

by ktlsyrtis



Category: Holby City
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Episode Remix, Episode: s18e21 One Under, F/F, Fluff and Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-04
Updated: 2019-03-06
Packaged: 2019-11-09 01:40:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,521
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17992403
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ktlsyrtis/pseuds/ktlsyrtis
Summary: Sian sips her wine, watches Serena intently over the rim of the glass.They’ve been through a lot together. Uni, med school and law school. Harvard and apprenticeship, their careers on the rise. Boyfriends and useless husbands. Weddings and divorces.And in all that time, she’s never seen Serena quite like this. Has certainly never known her to mention anyone’s name this many times in a single conversation.Tapping her perfectly manicured nails against the bowl of her glass, she thinks maybe it’s time for her to meet this Bernie Wolfe...





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Another ancient tome, unearthed from my WIP folder!
> 
> Thanks as always to Bonnie for her beta eyes. And an extra big shoutout to Beth, who went above and beyond holding my hand, talking through plot points, cajoling me to keep writing and reassuring me it wasn't all crap <333

Serena steps away from the crowded bar, a glass of shiraz and one of chardonnay in hand as she makes her way back to the table. Albie’s is more crowded than normal, everyone from Holby who isn’t on shift gathered to take part in Morven’s liver disease fundraiser. Sian convinced her that a night of copious wine and flirting with young doctors — or watching Sian flirt with young doctors, more like — is just what she needs to shake off her recent break-up with Robbie. 

Serena reclaims her seat, passing the white wine to Sian and wincing a little at the feedback squeal from the microphone, when her eyes are drawn to a commotion at the door. She can’t help the smile that tugs at her lips when she sees the riot of blonde curls across the room. Fletch cornered Bernie as she entered and the two seem to be having a rather spirited discussion, Bernie’s eyes wide as she shakes her head vehemently. Serena glances around the room for an empty chair to pull over to their table, bemused when Fletch grabs Bernie by the wrist and marches her past and up onto the stage.

“Alright everyone,” Fletch bellows into the microphone, hand still firmly wrapped around Bernie’s wrist. For her part, Bernie looks utterly terrified, dark eyes wide and darting about frantically. “Think we have time for one more lot! It’s a date with this lovely bachelorette - the Major herself, Bernie Wolfe!” 

Serena’s mouth drops open, barely even reacting when Sian elbows her sharply in the ribs, leaning close to speak over the din of the bar.

“ _That’s_ Bernie Wolfe? If I had known your tastes ran to blondes I’d have made a play _years_ ago!” The odd statement barely penetrates Serena’s consciousness, her eyes locked on Bernie.

“And I’m going to start the bidding at 20 pounds!”

Bids are shouted from all around the bar, men and women alike. Each increasing amount deepens the blush on Bernie’s cheeks and ratchets up Serena’s anger. _How dare Fletch do this to Bernie_ , she fumes. Her grip tightens on her wine glass until her knuckles go white, oblivious to Sian watching her.

“One hundred and fifty pounds! Going once, going twice…” Sian’s arm shoots into the air, finally drawing Serena’s attention.

“Five hundred pounds!” Her voice rings out clearly across the bar, all heads turning toward their table. Serena’s eyes practically bug out of her head.

“ _Sian_ ,” she hisses, “what on _earth_ do think you’re doing?”

“ _Sold_ to the lovely lady in the front!” Fletch bellows, Sian merely smiling enigmatically as the bar once again erupts into chatter and applause. Serena grabs her elbow, turning Sian to face her.

“This isn’t funny, Sian.” Her voice is practically quivering with rage. Sian rolls her eyes with a laugh.

“What? You said yourself she’s single. And she is a fine looking woman. Who knows what’ll happen?” Sian leans back in her seat, smirking over the edge of her wineglass while Serena sputters helplessly. 

“Oh for goodness sake, Rena. It’s just a bit of fun for charity! Where’s the harm in that?”

“You forget, I know exactly how much harm you can do.” 

“It’s not my fault you didn’t have the guts to bid on her yourself,” Sian mutters into her wineglass.

Momentarily taken aback, any response Serena may have managed is derailed by the arrival of a distinctly nervous looking Bernie at their table.

“Um, hello.” 

Sian’s face splits into a sultry cheshire cat’s grin as she reaches out a hand.

“Hello, indeed.” The familiar flirtatious lilt in her voice sets the wine roiling in Serena’s stomach. “Sian Kors, a pleasure to meet you.”

Bernie hesitantly takes her hand, keeps shooting uncertain glances Serena’s way.

“It, ah, it’s good to meet you too.” 

“Goodness!” Sian exclaims, loud enough that heads turn at the next table over, and Serena wishes she could sink through the floor. “Such strong hands! I’d imagine you’re very...capable with them.”

Blushing bright enough to be seen in the dim pub lights, Bernie once again looks to Serena. An inexplicable thread of anger coils tight around her chest. Anger at Sian, at Bernie, at the whole damnable situation.

“I just hope you don’t make a fool of yourselves and become the talk of the hospital. Wouldn’t do to have your personal life single-handedly fueling the gossip mill. Again.” The words spill out before she can stop them, her sharp tongue fueled by feelings she doesn’t know how to explain.

Bernie’s eyes go wide, filled with hurt that cuts through Serena like the keen edge of a scalpel. She knows she should apologize, that Bernie doesn’t deserve her ire, but she can’t seem to find the words through the confusing morass of her emotions.

Sian _tsks_ in disgust as she rises, slips her arm through the crook of Bernie’s elbow.

“Come along, darling. Why don’t we leave this one,” she nods her head towards Serena dismissively, “to sulk while you buy me another drink. We can get to know each other a little better.”

Serena watches helplessly as they walk over to the crowded bar, heart sinking when Bernie never even bothers to look back.

…

One hand righting the twisted collar of her blouse, Serena walks from the locker room onto the ward, mind already running ahead to the rest of her day. Coming around the corner, she sees Bernie standing behind the nurse’s station, her back to Serena as she speaks to someone out of view.

The sight of her in AAU blue, hair pulled back in a messy stub of a ponytail, makes Serena smile. While she’s just filling in for the day, AAU already seems like a natural fit for the trauma surgeon. Certainly more so than the electives and sedate pace of Keller. 

_Maybe this could transition into a more permanent position?_ She likes the idea of having Bernie as a part of their AAU team. Not only would her trauma skills be an enormous asset to the ward, it would be nice to have a true _equal_. Someone who understands the challenges of being a woman in their field, at their level. Someone to have her back.

They’ve become so close, so quickly despite being on different wards, forging a friendship over cups of coffee and glasses of wine that Serena wouldn’t trade for anything. But Serena has been waiting her whole career for a true colleague, a partner. Maybe that someonecould be Bernie.

Making a mental note to set up a meeting with Hanssen, she rounds the desk, stopping in her tracks at the unexpected sight of Sian leaning against the counter, leopard print dress pulled tight across her derrière as she laughs, presenting what Serena can only imagine is an unholy amount of cleavage to a blushing and clearly flustered Bernie Wolfe. Fletch and Cara look on in a slack jawed mix of horror and glee at what is obviously the best thing to happen to them all day.

Smile gone, Serena marches forward, glaring daggers at the porter who has become engrossed in the view Sian is presenting until he scurries away.

“Sian,” Serena smiles at the look of gratitude Bernie shoots her before raising an eyebrow at their guest. “To what do we owe the pleasure?”

“Rena!” Sian pulls her close, bussing a kiss against Serena’s cheek in a cloud of designer perfume. “I’ve decided to make an additional donation to AAU. So I thought I’d pop by and get some grassroots experience.”

Serena feels her eyebrows climbing higher in disbelief. “That’s, uh, very diligent.” In all her years as one of Holby’s patrons Sian has _never_ shown any interest in the inner workings of the wards, preferring instead to put her efforts into charity balls and posh fundraising events. “Unfortunately, I simply don’t have the time today. If we could make an appointment…”

“Oh, that’s quite alright, Rena.” Sian dismisses the idea with a wave of the hand, turning her smile back on Bernie. “I was hoping maybe Bernie here could show me around? Serena’s told me all about the miracles you’ve been performing in surgery, but I’d love to hear about it from the expert herself.” Sian practically purrs, leaning a hip on the desktop.

“Oh, um, right.” If Bernie was flustered before, the look she shoots Serena now is positively panicked. “Sure. I, uh, I’d be happy to.” 

The unfortunate truth is that Sian is well within her rights as one of Holby’s most notable patrons to request a tour of any facilities she’s considering donating funds for. All Serena can do is give Bernie a helpless shrug and a sympathetic smile as Sian takes her arm and leads her away, chatting a mile a minute.

…

What started as a tour of AAU’s facilities has somehow turned into Sian shadowing Bernie throughout the day. Everywhere she turns Serena sees the pair of them. Huddled together over budget spreadsheets as she comes out of theater. Sian laughing loudly at something Bernie says, hand gripping her bicep, practically leaning against her as she came off the elevator. Watching her friend flirt and simper, completely ignoring Bernie’s obvious discomfort, makes her blood boil. 

Stepping back onto the ward to find Sian leaning over where Bernie is sat at the computer, breasts practically spilling out onto her shoulder, is the last straw. She turns on her heel with a huff, storming off to Pulses for a much needed caffeine jolt and a break from the spectacle Sian’s making of herself. 

Afternoon coffee in hand, Serena returns to her office to find Sian waiting in one of the guest chairs, tapping away furiously at her phone. _How she does that with those nails, I’ll never know._

“Ah, Sian.” Settling in behind her desk, Serena sips her slightly too hot coffee, hissing a little at the burn. “I’m sorry I couldn’t take you around myself today. I trust you enjoyed your tour?”

“It was very enlightening, Rena.” Her grin is positively wicked and Serena feels the first flutters of worry in the back of her mind. “Oh and I’m going to have to renege on that opera invite.”

“Oh, ah, oh, not to worry, I’m...busy.” She really does her best to sound genuinely put out, but the attempt is poor even to her own ears. Fortunately Sian barely notices, her gaze suddenly fixed firmly on Bernie, studying a patient file at the nurse’s station.

Serena’s eyes widen as she cottons on to the implication. “Oh, Sian, come on now. Bernie’s a colleague. And she’s a woman!”

“It’s just a bit of opera, Serena.” Serena rolls her eyes at Sian’s airy dismissal, as if she hasn’t seen this scenario play out countless times before. “As for being a woman, well, that’s hardly a deal breaker.”

“It’s never just ‘a bit’ of anything with you,” Serena grumbles. “Have you shaved your legs?”

“I’m sorry?”

“If you’ve shaved your legs then it is a clear sign of your intentions.”

“Don’t be so ridiculous!” Sian laughs. “I haven’t had any body hair since the 90’s. _Anywhere_.”

“Right.” Serena shakes her head a little, trying to dislodge the mental image from her brain. “Still Sian, I mean it. Bernie’s not just a colleague, she’s my friend. I don’t think it’s right for you to make light of her sexuality like this.”

Eyes brightening, Sian sits forward eagerly. “So she _is_ of the sapphic persuasion! I mean, I had assumed. She leaned against the wall with her hands in her pockets earlier and I thought half the women on the ward were going to go into cardiac arrest.”

“Sian, really! It’s absolutely none of your business.”

“But it is yours?” Sian’s gaze turns sharp and Serena can feel heat rising in her face. It was easy to forget sometimes that Sian is an accomplished lawyer. One who is _very_ good at using her persona to great tactical advantage.

“No, of course not.” Serena fumbles with a stack of files, neatening her already immaculate desk. “As I said, Bernie’s a friend. And I’d hate to see her get hurt.”

“Oh for god’s sake, Rena, I’m not asking the woman to marry me. This barely even qualifies as a date! It’s just a few glasses of wine, some opera, a little light flirting.” She lowers her voice conspiratorially. “Although I wouldn’t turn down a shag if she offered. Have you seen that arse in those scrubs?”

 _“Enough!”_ The loud bang of Serena’s hand slapping the surface of the desk startles them both. “Enough, Sian. Bernie is a brilliant surgeon and an incredible woman and I refuse to let you treat her like one of your pathetic little playthings so that you can support your persistent delusion that you’re still in your 20’s. It’s not ‘experimentation,’ it’s people’s emotions, people’s lives you’re meddling with and Bernie Wolfe deserves _far_ better than that.” 

The silence in the office that follows her outburst is palpable. Sian leans back in her chair, slowly crossing her legs, eyes shuttered and cool. 

“Are you quite finished?” Sian asks with an arched eyebrow, and Serena nods sharply. “Good. You know, you could have just told me you fancied her. It would have saved us all some time.”

Serena blinks, retort stopped dead as her brain scrambles to catch up with the sharp left turn the conversation’s taken. “I... _what_?”

“Oh do close your mouth, you look like a codfish.” Sian leans forward, resting her crossed arms on her knee. “I’m not an idiot, Rena. For the past three months every time we’ve talked it’s been _Bernie Wolfe_ this and _Bernie Wolfe_ that. And then today you’ve been stalking around this place like a possessive lioness. Admit it, you’re jealous.”

“ _Jealous_ ,” Serena scoffs. “Of you and Bernie? Oh don’t be ridiculous!”

Sian raises an eyebrow incredulously. “You could’ve fooled me. It’s been like when I asked Billy Taylor out before you could in uni all day.”

“I _did_ ask Billy out. And then _you_ shagged him in the coat room at the spring formal, if I recall.” Serena rolls her eyes at Sian’s noncommittal hum. “Regardless, I am in no way interested in Bernie. She’s a co-worker and a friend, nothing more. And even if none of that were true, in case you hadn’t noticed, she’s a woman and I’m straight.”

The laugh that explodes out of Sian is loud enough to make Serena jump and glance out the window to see if anyone on the ward can hear them through the closed door. Her eyebrows sink into a glower as Sian keeps laughing. 

“I fail to see what’s so funny.”

“Oh for the love of god, Serena.” Sian dabs the tears from her eyes, trying to contain the last of her giggles. “I have known you for a million years and if you’re straight, I’m a virgin.”

“Excuse me?!”

“You heard me. I mean, honestly. You flirt relentlessly with anything with a pulse, man and woman alike. There’s a word for that, you know.”

Pushing out of her chair, Serena rises to pace across the office, sliding her pendant back and forth along its chain. “That’s just flirting. You of all people know that doesn’t mean anything.”

“Right.” Sian leans back, arms crossed as she watches her pace. “What about Polly Davis during Freshers’ week?”

“That was a dare.”

“And Mindy Thompkins?”

“I was incredibly drunk and she started it.”

“Helen Mirren?”

Serena throws up her hands, exasperated. “Sian, _everyone_ wants to sleep with Helen Mirren!”

Sian huffs out a sigh. “Can you honestly say your only interest in Bernie is friendship? Truly? After all these years, I think I out of _anyone_ know what you’re like when you have a crush.”

Opening her mouth to deny it, Serena pauses. Closes her mouth. Considers.

Bernie is absolutely her friend, her best friend. The best friend she’s had in ages. It seemed unavoidable. From the very first they’ve been so in sync, bringing out the best in one another both in and out of theater. That’s what friends do, after all, don’t they? 

So what if she finds herself touching Bernie all the time? She does that with everyone. Her fascination with Bernie’s strong, delicate hands stems from respect for her surgical prowess. And that nagging desire she always feels to run her fingers through her hair, to tangle them in those messy blonde curls, that’s totally normal. _Right?_

Blanching, Serena sinks into the seat beside Sian, burying her face in her hands. “Oh my god,” she whimpers.

“There we are.” Sian rubs soothing circles on her back. “I swear, Rena, you’re the very last person in the world to figure this out.”

“Sian, what am I going to do?” Serena moans from behind her hands, peeking out when she hears Sian rummaging in her handbag beside her. 

“I’ll tell you what you’re going to do. You’re going to go home, shave your legs, put on your best dress and take that gorgeous woman to the opera,” she shoves a pair of tickets into Serena’s hands. “Afterward you’re going to take her back to yours and shag the daylights out of each other. Then you and I are going to go to brunch, drink our weight in mimosas and you’re going to tell me absolutely every filthy detail.” She smiles smugly, as if the matter is entirely settled in her mind.

“I...I couldn’t _possibly_ …” Serena sputters, hands fluttering helplessly at the tickets in her lap. “Even if I...Bernie would _never_ be interested!”

Sian gives another long-suffering sigh. “You absolute numpty. Haven’t you noticed the way she looks at you?” She chuckles at Serena’s poleaxed expression. “It’s a miracle she hasn’t dragged you off to a storage cupboard for a snog yet, trust me.”

“But she’s such a close friend, Sian.” Serena’s voice is hushed and thick, emotion constricting her chest like a vice. “What if you’re wrong? What if I say something and it ruins everything?”

“And what if it doesn’t?” Sian’s hand cups her chin, turning Serena to meet her eyes. “My motto? Life’s too short to make things more complicated than they need be.” She holds Serena’s gaze for a moment, eyes intent, then turns away. “Well, tell Bernie I’m sorry I won’t be joining her this evening.” She stands, settling the strap of her bag on her shoulder. “Ask her out. See what happens. You may be pleasantly surprised.”

Pressing a quick kiss to Serena’s cheek, she sweeps from the office, leaving Serena to ponder the tickets in her lap and whether she’s brave enough to take Sian’s advice. 

…

Stepping out the ambulance bay doors, a cup of coffee in each hand, Serena smiles at the sight of Bernie sitting on what she’s come to think of as _their_ bench, smoke curling upward from her pursed lips. Bernie catches sight of her, thin lips tipping up in a soft smile that sets Serena’s heart flipping in her chest, nerves filling her shortly after.

Serena attempts to smile, as if everything is normal, forces herself to walk closer, holding the cup out before her.

“I thought you might need a pick me up.”

“You’re a lifesaver,” Bernie’s smile widens into a full fledged grin, their fingers bumping as she takes the cup from Serena’s hand. Alarm suddenly fills her eyes, and she leans forward, peering around behind Serena. “Sian’s not with you, is she?” Bernie sounds so terrified, Serena has to bite back a laugh.

“Don’t worry, she’s gone. Most likely attached herself to someone else already.”

Bernie sags a bit, relieved, lifting her cup in a small salute before bringing it to her lips. Her eyes shut in pleasure, moaning softly at the first sip of life giving caffeine, and Serena almost drops her cup. Shaking her head at her own ridiculousness, she sits gingerly beside Bernie, the cold of the concrete bench soaking through her trousers, making her shiver a bit.

“I’m sorry about Sian,” Serena says, fingers fiddling with the cardboard sleeve on her cup, flicking a loose corner with her thumbnail. “She can be a bit full on, but she’s harmless. Well, mostly.”

Bernie bleats out a laugh at that, the restrained _ha_ that always makes Serena smile, summons memories of laughing themselves silly over wine at Albie’s. 

“You can say that again! I was afraid she was going to pop out of that dress in the middle of the ward.”

“As you should.” Serena leans in, lowering her voice conspiratorially, their shoulders jostling. “That’s one of her tried and true pulling techniques. You might be the only person left in the county who hasn’t seen her breasts.”

“Thank goodness for small mercies,” Bernie chuckles into her cup. They’re still pressed together, close enough that Serena can feel some of Bernie’s heat seeping through her sleeve, but neither of them seem inclined to move apart. Serena takes a deep breath, glances at Bernie out of the corner of her eye and marshalls her courage.

“Speaking of Sian, you owe me a thank you.” She smiles mischievously in response to Bernie’s unspoken query. “She was going to ask you to the opera tonight, but I talked her out of it.”

Bernie shudders a bit, eyes wide with gratitude. “How on earth did you manage that? Sian doesn’t seem like someone who’s put off easily.”

Serena swallows hard, forces the foot that’s started tapping incessantly to still. “She, ah, she may have gotten the impression that there’s someone else who you’d like to go with. Who- who’d like to take you.” She focuses on a crack in the pavement, can’t look Bernie’s way, knows that if she does her courage will flag, can feel those dark eyes on her.

“Um, who’s the poor sod, then?” Bernie’s voice is huskier than normal, a touch tremulous, and suddenly Serena wonders if she really is the last to know. She forces herself to take a breath, then another.

“Well, it-. That is she thinks… She gave the tickets to me.” It comes out as more of a question than she means, the words going a little high at the end, and she feels Bernie jerk beside her, hears her sharp inhale. She risks a glance, finds Bernie staring at her with an unreadable expression, those dark eyes opaque.

“And, um, why- why would she do that?” Bernie says carefully, the words sitting between them like unexploded ordnance. No matter what the outcome, Serena knows that this moment will change everything between them, for better or worse. But she also knows that if she runs from this, she’ll always regret not taking the chance. Squaring her shoulders, she turns to face Bernie more fully, injecting a confidence she doesn’t feel into her voice.

“She thinks I should take you out. On a date. Because.” _Now or never, Campbell._ “Because I like you, Bernie. Quite a lot, it would seem.”

The world seems to freeze around them for a long moment, holding its breath as surely as Serena herself. She tamps down the urge to flee, to leave before Bernie can inevitably turn her down. So convinced of the outcome, she almost misses the way Bernie’s eyes soften, the slight lift at the corner of her mouth. The feel of Bernie’s pinkie overlapping her own, the barest contact, runs through her like an electric shock. She glances down at their hands, back up at Bernie’s face, a sudden fierce hope swelling inside her.

“Why Ms. Campbell,” the teasing lilt in Bernie’s voice sets Serena’s heart galloping, “are you asking me on a date?”

“If I were?” She’s running on sheer bravado at this point, half convinced this is all a dream or hallucination of some kind. Taking a chance, she moves her hand until it covers Bernie’s lightly, goes a little lightheaded with relief when she feels it turn over, their fingers slotting together. Bernie’s hands are the same as hers, the curious mix of rough and smooth that comes from endless rounds of scrubbing and hand sanitizer, and they fit together like puzzle pieces.

“I think I might ask what brought this on. I didn’t think you’d, um, be interested.” 

_I thought you were straight_ goes unsaid, but Serena hears it clearly nonetheless, can see the hesitation in Bernie’s eyes, fear and longing all swirling together, echoing the emotions twisting in Serena’s gut. It occurs to her in a flash that she’s not the only one who has something to lose here, and she’s overcome with gratitude that Bernie is even willing to talk this through instead of running for the hills. She squeezes Bernie’s fingers lightly, thumb brushing back and forth across her knuckles.

“Let’s just say it was recently pointed out to me that my interests are more, ah, _diverse_ than I realized.” Serena squeezes Bernie’s hand again, eyes dropping to Bernie’s lips, lingering there long enough that when she meets Bernie’s eyes again her cheeks have gone a little pink. “And I promise you, I am _very_ interested.”

Bernie swallows hard, a flash of desire crossing her face that Serena feels right to her toes.

“In that case,” Bernie murmurs, eyes dark and intense, “I’d ask what time I should pick you up.”

Serena can hardly restrain her grin, feels as if sheer delight is exploding out of her pores. “Be at mine at seven.” 

She pulls her hand from Bernie’s regretfully as she stands, risks a quick cheeky wink, gratified by the way Bernie’s tongue darts out to wet her lips. Serena puts a little extra swing into her hips as she walks away, thinks she can feel Bernie’s appreciative gaze burning into her back as she goes.

…

Serena pulls open her closet door, butterflies already starting to flutter in her stomach as she digs toward the back.

She hardly saw Bernie the rest of the day, caught up in surgeries and administrative crises, only catching glimpses of blonde hair across the ward. Their eyes met as Serena was leaving for the night, Bernie clearly only half listening to Morven, lips curving in a small, secret smile that made Serena’s breath catch.

Her fingers brush against smooth satin and she tugs the black gown free from the surrounding clothes, eyeing it critically. It’s not the most fashionable thing, but it is her nicest dress and she knows it does wonders for her figure. The thought of Bernie appreciating said figure sets the butterflies to swooping.

She _tuts_ at herself and carries the dress with on her way to the ensuite, hanging it on the back of the door to steam out the wrinkles. Flicking the handle of the shower as hot as it’ll go, she slips off her clothes, leaving them in a haphazard pile on the tiled floor.

The hot water is bliss after a long day, and she lets out a soft groan as her muscles start to unknot in the building steam. Grabbing the loofa off the shelf, she scrubs at her pale skin, which quickly pinks under the heat and friction.

She’s trying desperately to ignore it, but she hasn’t been this nervous for a first date for as long as she can remember. Some of that is down to the fact that Bernie’s a woman. Of course it is. But now that the shock of it all has passed, she finds it’s not as strange as she expected. It’s as if this possibility has always been there, just outside of her perception, waiting to fill a hole that she didn’t even know existed. She feels complete, somehow, more present in her own skin just by the act of acknowledging her interest.

No, it’s not the fact that Bernie’s a woman that has Serena in jitters, it’s that she’s, well, _Bernie_. Brave, messy, beautiful Bernie. Brilliant surgeon, pop culture neophyte, and Serena’s best friend.

It’s the last that gives her pause, makes her hand go still a moment. She knows it’s a risk, dating someone who’s all ready so important in her life. At the back of her mind runs a constant loop of worst case scenarios: _What if it all goes wrong? What if you drive her away? Is it worth losing your closest friend?_

The thought of a life without Bernie is unexpectedly terrifying. It would be safer to stay as friends, to say this was all a mad idea and they should just remain as they are. 

Then she thinks of the darkness of Bernie’s eyes, the way her nerves had thrummed to life at the mere touch of Bernie’s hand, the undeniable connection between them. Suddenly it seems worth all the risk in the world, the first tendrils of desire creeping through her. 

Serena’s eyes fall on the pink plastic razor on the windowsill, the one she hasn’t touched since ending things with Robbie. As she reaches for it automatically, her own words come back to her, annoyingly in Sian’s teasing voice.

_“If you’ve shaved your legs then it is a clear sign of your intentions.”_

She hesitates a moment, then rolls her eyes dramatically. “So what if it is?” she says aloud to the empty room, snatching the razor from the sill and setting to work.

Showered, shaved, and made up to perfection, Serena is just stepping into her dress when she hears a knock at the front door, followed by a hesitant “Serena?” Knowing time would be tight, she’d left the door open a crack so that Bernie wouldn’t have to wait on the stoop.

“Come on through,” Serena shouts, hears the door open and close again. “There’s wine out in the kitchen if you’d like a glass. I’ll be just a minute!”

Shimmying the fabric up her legs, she slips her arms into the bodice and settles it in place before craning around to reach the zipper. For a moment she entertains the idea of asking Bernie to zip her up, imagines the look on her face, but decides against it. “I’d probably trip on the stairs and break my neck,” she mutters to herself as her fingers find the small metal tab.

There’s a terrifying moment where the zipper jams, and only through breath control and prayer does it close completely. She turns to the mirror, smoothing her hands over the full, stiff fabric of the skirt. The fit is a bit more snug than when she wore it to Ric’s class reunion, but the dress still does it’s job; nipping her waist in nicely, the wide neckline framing her collarbones and a not insignificant amount of cleavage. _Not too bad_ , she thinks, can only hope that Bernie feels the same. 

Slipping on the dangling ruby earrings that had been a gift from her parents when she graduated med school, she steps into a pair of heels and makes her way out of the bedroom.

Serena pauses in the kitchen doorway, hand going unconsciously to the base of her throat, fingers worrying the skin there slightly. She’s not sure what she expected, exactly, but it certainly wasn’t the sight of Bernie Wolfe in a dress.

The simple silk shift skims over the shape of Bernie’s lean body, shows the curves that her scrubs normally hide, the back dipping almost to the base of her spine. Serena can’t look away, eyes avidly taking in the smooth ivory skin framed perfectly by the inky blue fabric, peppered here and there with freckles and moles, her mind’s eye suddenly filled with vivid imaginings of exploring the marks with her mouth, trailing her tongue upward along the bumps of Bernie’s spine until she reaches that long neck, the tendrils of hair that fall from the soft twist above.

_Maybe Sian has a point…_

Bernie turns, and Serena feels a warm satisfaction at the way her mouth drops open, the heat of her gaze almost palpable as it travels over Serena’s figure. “Serena, you look...incredible.” Her voice is awed, as if she can’t believe Serena is real, and the wonder she hears buoys Serena’s confidence. 

Perhaps it’s vanity, but she’s always enjoyed being looked at by a lover, seeing the desire in their eyes, letting it amplify her own. The realization that she’s thinking of Bernie that way, that it’s Bernie looking at her so intensely, sends a bolt of lust pulsing through her.

“You clean up pretty well yourself, Major.”

She holds Bernie’s gaze as she walks forward, stops a step closer than she normally would and plucks the glass of wine from Bernie’s hand. Turning the glass, Serena makes sure to put her mouth right where there’s a smudge of Bernie’s lip gloss, hears Bernie’s sharp inhale as she takes a long, slow sip. Never breaking eye contact, she reaches past Bernie to set the glass on the bench, leaning in close enough to catch the scent of Bernie’s shampoo, her breasts just grazing Bernie’s arm. She pulls back just as slowly, could swear she hears a faint moan deep in Bernie’s throat before she steps away, a knowing smile on her lips.

“Shall we? We don’t want to be late.”

…

Serena’s never been much of a fan of opera, but she thinks she could learn to love it with Bernie at her side. 

As they enter the opulent atrium, Serena feels suddenly nervous. It’s not being with Bernie, although she notices a few heads turn as they make their way up the grand staircase. She finds she’s unsure if the ease of their working relationship can translate here, if the careless touches to Bernie’s shoulders, the gentle smiles, are as welcome at the opera as they are at the nurse’s station.

Bernie steps away for a moment, says something about finding the bar, and Serena takes the opportunity to breathe, to try and still the butterflies swooping in her stomach, to find her balance in this unexpected situation.

“Shiraz, I presume?” Serena smiles in thanks as Bernie presses a glass into her hand, clinks a matching glass against it in a toast. Their eyes lock as they each take a sip, and Serena thinks she’s sees some of her own nervous anticipation reflected in Bernie’s gaze.

An usher checks their tickets and leads them to the loge, the aisles narrow enough they can’t walk side by side. Bernie’s hand rests against Serena’s lower back for a moment, guiding her forward, warm enough even through her clothes that she imagines she can still feel the heat lingering as they take their seats. 

It’s an old theater, the close seats ensuring their shoulders brush together when Bernie leans in.

“If a fat lady sings an aria in the first act, is the opera over?” she whispers, a conspiratorial glint in her eyes.

A laugh bursts out of Serena, loud enough that a posh old woman three rows up turns to glare. It only serves to make her laugh harder, one hand clutching Bernie’s wrist as she claps the other over her mouth.

In that moment her heart settles, her mind stilling, and as the lights dim she allows herself to just exist, for once, in this perfect moment, this perfect situation. It feels natural as anything, when halfway through the second act, she places her hand face up on the armrest between them, when Bernie’s fingers graze against her palm, the flutter in her heart has all the familiarity of home.


	2. Chapter 2

The moon is bright overhead as they walk up the path to Serena’s front door, casting everything in an ethereal glow, lighting their way.

They pause on the front step, hands still tangled together, unwilling to part for even an instant. Bernie’s eyes are practically black, fathomless in the moonlight, and Serena finds herself wishing this night would never end, wishes she had the words that would make this last forever. 

Instead she falls back on platitudes, off kilter in the face of the weighted silence between them.

“I had a lovely time this evening.” Serena tries to imbue her true meaning into the words, hopes Bernie can hear everything she can’t manage to say in this moment.

“So did I, Serena.” Bernie dips her head, unruly fringe curtaining her eyes.

Without thinking, Serena reaches up to tuck the loose hair behind Bernie’s ear, fingers brushing lightly across her forehead, lingering against the edge of her jaw. Their eyes meet and lock, and what Serena sees takes her breath away, an intensity that’s terrifying and exhilarating in equal measure. 

Slowly, one hand still cupping Bernie’s face, Serena leans forward, presses her lips softly to Bernie’s cheek. She lingers there, breathing Bernie in, wishes she could bottle the mélange of bargain soap, lingering notes of coffee, the distant tang of smoke; scents that feel so much like home it makes her chest ache.

She pulls back just as Bernie turns and suddenly they’re so close she can feel the warmth of Bernie’s breath against her cheek, loses herself in those dark, dark eyes that loom large in her vision as Bernie closes the scant space between them.

Bernie’s lips are gentle against Serena’s; dry, a little chapped, hesitant and utterly wonderful. Serena’s eyes flutter shut, the beginnings of a moan vibrating in the back of her throat, her body unconsciously arcing toward Bernie’s. 

Before she can really respond, Bernie pulls back with a sharp little gasp. Serena blinks her eyes open, confused, finds Bernie staring back at her with a heady mix of desire and stark terror. She knows instinctively that Bernie fears she overstepped, can already see the apology forming on her lips. 

An apology is the last thing Serena wants, but she can’t seem to find it in her to say that aloud. In lieu of words, she takes a page from Bernie’s book, speaks with action instead.

Curling her hand around the back of Bernie’s neck, Serena pulls her in, kisses her firmly. There’s a long moment where Bernie stays rigid, and then she melts with a helpless little whimper that sets Serena’s brain abuzz. Strong arms come up around her, Bernie’s hands splayed across her back, like she wants to touch all of Serena at once, fingers digging in harder when Serena slides her tongue into Bernie’s mouth, her hands mussing the elegant twist of her hair. 

The universe seems to shrink to just this moment. There’s nothing left but the thundering of blood in Serena’s ears and Bernie. _Everywhere_ , Bernie. Deliriously, Serena thinks she’d be happy to give up shiraz for this; Bernie’s deep, searching kisses just as delicious and twice as intoxicating.

She finds herself backed up against her front door, pinned between the solid wood and Bernie’s lean body, the kiss never breaking (or maybe it’s many kisses, one after another in endless succession, her mind too hazy to tell the difference). A muscled thigh finds its way between her legs, pressing just so, and Serena practically mewls into Bernie’s mouth, hands scrabbling desperately at her shoulders, trying to bring her impossibly closer.

When they finally break apart, they’re both panting, lungs aching for oxygen. They’re still tangled together on Serena’s front porch, neither of them willing to pull away just yet. Bernie’s eyes are black in the dim lamplight, pupils blown wide with lust that makes Serena shiver.

She swallows against the dryness of her throat, tries to sound like she isn’t about to fly apart at the seams.

“Would, uh, would you like to come in for a nightcap?” 

They both know what she’s really saying, what the inevitable outcome will be if Bernie follows Serena inside. Bernie studies her intently, as if she can see all of Serena’s innermost thoughts. Whatever she’s looking for, she must find it. A slow, unbearably sexy smile curls her lips as she nods her assent, and Serena thinks her heart may actually pound its way out of her chest.

It’s a bit of a trick getting her key in the lock with Bernie pressed against her back, breath warm on the back of Serena’s neck, but she manages it eventually. They barely make it through the door before they’re kissing again, Bernie’s hands pulling Serena’s wrap from her shoulders and dropping it to the floor as the door clicks shut, somehow shedding her own in the process. Serena groans as her hands finally get to explore the warm, smooth skin of Bernie’s back, tracing the edges of the dress all the way down to the hollow of her spine lightly with her fingernails, and she hears a little grunt of pleasure from where Bernie is currently mouthing a path along the edge of her jaw.

It’s overwhelming — too much and not enough all at once — and Serena thinks if Bernie doesn’t touch her, _really_ touch her soon, she might go insane. 

Disentangling herself regretfully from Bernie’s arms, Serena takes her hand, leading her down the darkened hall towards the stairway. 

“Serena, wait.” Bernie stops in place, still holding Serena’s hand as she turns back. “Are you sure about this?”

Serena’s heart swells at the care in Bernie’s voice, her ever-present concern for Serena’s well-being, filled with gratitude at the astonishing good fortune of finding this with her best friend. Her nervousness falls away as she steps close, brings a hand up to cup Bernie’s cheek, brushing the softest of kisses against those thin lips.

“I’m very sure.” Serena kisses Bernie again, because she wants to, because she _can_ , lingering a touch longer. “I want you, Bernie.” She can see the hitch in Bernie’s chest at the directness of her words, feels her fingers grip almost painfully tight for a moment.

This time, when Serena turns towards the stairs, Bernie follows.

Her confidence flags a bit once they’re standing in her moonlit bedroom, uncertainty creeping through her. Even as Bernie’s arms wrap around her from behind, that incredible mouth exploring and teasing the soft curve where neck meets shoulder, Serena can’t quite fully relax into the sensations.

Bernie must feel the tension in her body, the scalding, open mouthed kisses trailing off into gentle pecks along the tight muscle of Serena’s shoulder. 

“Is this all right?” Bernie’s lips brush her skin as she speaks, make Serena shiver.

“Yes! Yes. It’s just…” She gives an exasperated huff, half turns in Bernie’s arms so she can see her eyes, liquid in the dim light. “Despite my bravado, I- I’ve never actually done this before. With a woman, I mean.” She rolls her eyes with a self deprecating chuckle.

“We don’t have to do anythi-” 

Serena cuts the words off with a kiss, awkward at this angle but still effective.

“I meant what I said. I want you.” The shadow of Bernie’s throat bobs as she swallows hard, and Serena can’t resist brushing her lips against the fluttering pulse point beneath her jaw. “But maybe we could take this slow?”

She feels Bernie’s arms tighten around her waist, a hand splayed across her stomach, pulling them even more tightly together. 

“I can do slow,” Bernie murmurs with a smile, her breath hot against Serena’s skin. “Slow is good.”

“Very goo- _oh_ ,” Serena trails off, distracted by Bernie’s tongue delicately tracing the shell of her ear, teeth nipping softly at the lobe.

Clearly Bernie takes the request seriously. She sets about languidly exploring every inch of skin left bare by Serena’s gown, driving her positively mad in the process. Anytime Serena attempts to turn in her arms, to reciprocate, Bernie just tightens her grip, growls out a negative before resuming her assault on Serena’s senses.

Soft lips and that wicked tongue tease and taste the landscape of Serena’s neck and shoulders, Bernie’s low voice murmuring in her ear all the while, telling her how soft her skin is, how good she smells, how much Bernie has wanted this. On and on, until Serena is positively reeling, leaning back weakly against Bernie’s body. 

Bernie’s hand trails up along her side and over her shoulder, brushing the side of her neck before following the neckline of Serena’s dress, skimming lightly across the rounded swells of her breasts as they rise and fall with each shuddering breath. She lingers, tracing barely there patterns on Serena’s skin, circles that widen until her fingers dip beneath the edge of the satin, find the lace underneath. Brushing back and forth, advancing in agonizing millimeters. 

The touch thrills through Serena like electricity, snaps the last tenuous thread of her restraint.

“Bernie,” she groans, covering Bernie’s hand with her own to still the maddening caress. “ _Please_.” 

Bernie’s low, filthy chuckle in her ear makes her throb.

“It’s alright, Serena. I’ve got you.” Teeth nip at the side of her neck, and she feels Bernie’s hands seek out the zipper at the back of her gown. “May I?”

She nods, drawing in a shaky breath. The zipper seems unnaturally loud in the quiet room, a swirl of cool air raising a flush of goosebumps on her skin as surely as the warm lips that follow it, a series of soft kisses dropped along the line of her spine.

As the dress gapes open, slipping slowly down her torso under its own weight, an unexpected rush of nervousness slithers through her.

Serena has never been especially self conscious about her body. Of course there are more lumps and bumps as she’s gotten older, a new softness to once taut flesh, but she’s always felt she made up for it in confidence and sheer sensuality. Certainly none of her previous lovers have complained. 

Maybe it’s that this is all so new, being with a woman. Or that Bernie is beautiful in a way that makes her chest ache, all lithe curves and willowy limbs. Whatever the reason, she finds herself holding her breath a bit as the dress skims over her hips, sucking in her stomach as it pools around her feet, Bernie circling around her.

“Oh, _Serena_.” 

Bernie’s eyes are practically black, filled with something akin to awe, and the visceral force of her desire shocks the breath from Serena in a burst. Her gaze flits back and forth as if she’s trying to devour every inch of Serena by sight alone.

She’s inordinately glad that she chose to wear lingerie in a moment of hopefulness.

“God, you’re incredible,” Bernie breathes, holding out a hand to help Serena step out of the crumpled gown, eyes lingering avidly on the way the basque enhances her cleavage, the stockings that encase her legs, black lace a stark contrast against pale skin.

The naked desire in her gaze is undeniable and a warm flush of confidence fills Serena to the brim. She curls a finger beneath one of the narrow straps of Bernie’s dress, can feel the hammering of her heart against her knuckles.

“And you’re overdressed,” she says with a smirk, tugging at the strap until it slips off Bernie’s shoulder.

Bernie breaks into a slow, sexy smile that Serena feels all the way to her toes. Without a word, she pushes down the other strap, the dress slithering to the floor in a sibilant whisper of silk. 

Standing there, unabashed, wearing only a pair of black knickers, the sight of her takes Serena’s breath away.

Before she can even think to make herself move, Bernie is kissing her again; deeper, with an uncontrolled edge that sets Serena’s nerves alight. She stretches her hands wide across Bernie’s back, can’t get enough of all that velvet soft skin.

Somehow they make it across the room, still tangled together and kissing furiously, tumbling down onto Serena’s luxurious bed. Bernie manages to discard her knickers and straddles Serena’s thighs, rises up above her, the soft light making her skin practically glow. She looks like a sculpture; the softly rounded plane of her stomach above the tangle of dark hair at the juncture of her legs, breasts capped by dusky pink nipples puckered tight in the cool air, swaths of pale skin run through by silver lines of scars and stretch marks, like veins in marble.

Serena reaches up and gently runs a finger along the scar bisecting Bernie’s chest. It’s distinct from the skin surrounding it, raised and surprisingly smooth. She has a sudden vivid memory of sitting in the hospital break room, listening to Oliver Valentine recount how he held an army major’s heart in his hands and brought her back to life. The stark reminder that it was _Bernie_ who almost died that day makes her throat tight.

Bernie curls her hand around Serena’s, lifting it from her chest, presses soft kisses against her fingertips. Mischief glinting in her eyes, she takes one of Serena’s fingers between her lips, gently sucking it deeper, her tongue swirling against the sensitive skin until Serena is squirming beneath her. Bernie grins around the digit, lets it slide free with a wet pop.

The opportunity is too good to waste. Serena slowly circles her glistening finger around one of Bernie’s nipples, gasps at the way Bernie’s hips grind down against her own, a moment of perfect friction.

She whimpers a little in disappointment when Bernie shifts back, shivers as fingertips trail teasing paths up along her thighs. The clasps of her suspenders pop free with a flick of Bernie’s nimble fingers, and she gives a cheeky wink as she moves down the bed, settling on her knees between Serena’s spread legs. 

Her heartbeat races as Bernie slowly drags the silk stockings down one leg, then the other. Clasping Serena’s ankle gently, Bernie makes her way back up the same path with open mouthed kisses, flicking her tongue out to trace the line of Serena’s calf, the crease of her knee, grinning at the way Serena jerks with a bitten off yelp.

The higher she goes, the shallower Serena’s breathing becomes, and she’s practically holding her breath by the time Bernie sucks a faint mark on the soft skin of her inner thigh. The air leaves her in a rush as Bernie lightly brushes her nose against the gusset of her knickers, her hips jerking helplessly to chase the sensation with a garbled moan that sounds something like _please_. 

Bernie just chuckles, nips lightly at the ridge of Serena’s hip.

“Are you always this impatient?” she asks, grin widening at Serena’s glare. She slides up until their torsos are flush, kisses Serena sweetly, little more than a series of soft pecks against her lips. “I just want to enjoy this.” 

Leaving one more kiss against Serena’s lower lip, Bernie sits back on her heels, her hands moving to trace where skin meets the lacy edge of Serena’s lingerie, then lower, opening the top hook and eye, nestled snugly between Serena’s breasts.

Bernie is as methodical in this as she is in theater. Each time a hook opens, she takes a moment to slide her fingers beneath the increasing gap of the sheer fabric, stroking and teasing Serena’s warm skin until she’s arching her back off the bed, desperate for more contact.

The last hook pops open, the halves of the basque falling away, and Serena gasps as Bernie’s hot, wet mouth engulfs one of her nipples, her tongue swirling around the peak.

Serena’s never been especially sensitive here, but now she wonders if her previous partners were just doing it wrong. Sparks of sensation shoot through her, settle between her thighs, her head arched back into the pillow as Bernie’s fingers echo the movements of her mouth on Serena’s other nipple.

It’s overwhelming and maddening, and the only thought in Serena’s scattered mind is that she wants more. More of Bernie, more of this feeling. Just _more_. Without thinking, she brings her legs up to wrap around Bernie’s waist, pulling her in tight. They both groan as they grind together, only a thin barrier of damp lace left between them.

Surging upward, Bernie claims her mouth as they settle into a rhythm, bodies rocking in time. They kiss deeply; sloppy, uncoordinated perfection, panting and moaning into each others mouths. Serena’s hands roam the plane of Bernie’s back, short nails biting into skin, dragging upward to tangle in Bernie’s hair, dislodging the clip and tossing it somewhere across the room, a mess of silky golden curls spilling over her hands. It’s so, _so_ good, but she knows it’s not enough, can already feel a desperate sort of tension building at the base of her spine.

“Bernie,” Serena moans, fingers digging hard into Bernie’s shoulders, trying to move her where she needs. 

Teeth tugging at her lower lip, Bernie pulls her hands away, pinning them above her head, wrists trapped in one of Bernie’s strong hands. Before Serena even realizes what’s happening, the other hand worms between their bodies, slips beneath her knickers. 

Her cry as sure fingers circle her clit is muffled against Bernie’s mouth. They keep moving together as Bernie strokes and explores, the press of her hips adding just that much more delicious pressure, until Serena is babbling and whimpering, her voice high and tight.

“Come for me, Serena,” Bernie whispers gruffly, her breath hot against Serena’s ear.

Those words, in Bernie’s husky voice, send Serena over the edge, lights flashing behind tightly closed eyes as she pulses and shudders beneath Bernie. 

Serena slumps back against the bed, panting, eyes still closed as they untangle from one another. Body twitching with aftershocks, she raises her head, blinks blearily down at Bernie who’s kissing and nipping her way along a circuitous path down Serena’s abdomen.

“Bernie?” Serena asks, voice a little hoarse. 

Bernie doesn’t even look up, just gives a little inquisitive _hmmm?_ against the soft swell of Serena’s stomach, before laving the spot with her tongue, fingers tugging Serena’s knickers down over her hips. She shimmies a little lower, the press of her shoulders creating more space for herself between Serena’s thighs as she tosses away the scrap of fabric, making her intentions heart stoppingly clear.

“ _Fuck_ ,” Serena whimpers, hips bucking at the first swipe of a tongue against her oversensitive clit. 

“Easy,” Bernie coos, looping her arms around Serena’s thighs, pinning them in place, nudging her nose softly against the dark, wiry curls.

Any response Serena could muster is stolen away by long, exploratory caresses, a moan against her core that reverberates through her whole body. Bernie plays her with all the mastery of the opera musicians, unerringly seeking out every sensitive spot for just a moment, before retreating to trail languorous strokes along the entire length of her. She’s voracious, savoring every touch and taste, her murmurs and moans of obvious enjoyment setting off fireworks in Serena’s brain.

By the time she slides in two fingers, crooking them just right, Serena is writhing and panting, a fine sheen of sweat plastering her hair across her forehead, one hand gripping the duvet, the other knotted in Bernie’s cornsilk hair, desperate for something, anything, to ground her. Halting words and half finished sentences spill from her mouth, filling the room with a symphony of _please...more...I need...there…_

Taking pity on her, Bernie’s lips surround Serena’s clit, her tongue stroking purposefully, not even slowing when Serena comes with a shout, keeping her on that edge with mouth and fingers and the force of her will. 

It seems to go on forever, every muscle spasming in ecstasy as she comes and comes, until the world goes grey around the edges.

Serena collapses back against the bed, gasping for air, lungs burning, aching for each shuddering breath. She barely feels Bernie press a last, tender kiss against her before moving back up the bed, propping her chin on her hand while drawing aimless shapes on Serena’s still trembling abdomen.

“God, Bernie. That was…” An aftershock tremors through her, stealing her breath.

“I’m glad you enjoyed it,” Bernie says, leaning down to nuzzle her nose against Serena’s, a smug little grin on her face.

“You’re going to be insufferable from now on, aren’t you?” Serena says with a dramatic huff of annoyance, but she can’t keep the hint of a smile from tugging at the corners of her lips.

“Probably,” Bernie laughs, catches Serena’s smiling mouth in a kiss, their teeth bumping a bit before they settle into it. 

The taste of herself lingering on Bernie’s lips makes Serena a little dizzy, renewed desire flushing through her. Her hands find Bernie’s narrow hips as the kiss deepens, and she tugs a little, encourages Bernie back atop her. She already loves the warm weight of her, the way their bodies fit together, bare legs tangling as they kiss, hands wandering and exploring. 

A small shift brings their breasts together, nipples brushing, and they both gasp into the kiss.

Serena slides her hands down to the base of Bernie’s spine, fingers counting the bumps of her ribs on the way back up. She brushes her thumbs against the sides of Bernie’s breasts, then again, firmer, more purposeful. Gradually, she coaxes Bernie up enough to work her hands between their bodies.

It’s funny, she thinks, that she’s never really thought much about breasts before. She likes her own well enough, and of course knows all of the anatomy, the functions; the tightly bundled nerve endings transmitting even the barest sensations, smooth muscles contracting, pulling the skin taut.

None of her medical knowledge prepared her for the sheer sensuality of it all. The impossibly silky softness of the skin, the way the swells fill her palms, and she’s instantly addicted to the needy little moan that Bernie lets slip when she circles featherlight touches around the tight puckered nipples.

She can’t resist following the path forged by her hands with her mouth. Nuzzling into the warm valley between Bernie’s breasts, Serena breathes her in for a moment, brushing her lips in the faintest of butterfly kisses against the ragged line of scar tissue.

Serena thinks she could do this forever, feels almost drunk on the sounds Bernie is making. Each caress of her lips and stroke of her tongue is met with a soft gasp, a groan, a muttered curse. An experimental swirl of her tongue around Bernie’s nipple elicits a delicious whine that Serena immediately wants to hear again. She closes her lips over the bud, lightly scraping her teeth against it, grins fiercely at Bernie’s choked gasp of her name, the feel of her hand clutching the back of Serena’s neck, holding her in place.

It’s intoxicating, feeling the effect she’s having on this incredible woman, humbling and empowering all at once. Serena’s so caught up in chasing the sensations, she almost misses the roll of Bernie’s hips against her, thighs having slipped astride Serena’s own. In the midst of leaving a love bite on the underside of Bernie’s breast, Serena drops her hands to her hips, pulling Bernie more firmly against her. 

Bernie’s movements jerk to a stop and Serena pulls back, brow furrowed as she looks up.

“Sorry,” Bernie grits out, breathing harsh.

Tension and arousal are etched in the lines of her body, from the arm braced against the headboard to her tightly closed eyes, the quivering muscles of her thighs. Every inch screams restraint, and the realization that Bernie feels like she needs to hold back makes Serena’s heart ache.

“Bernie,” she says softly, tightening her grip on the narrow hips and giving a tug. Bernie’s eyes fly open with a gasp, practically burning with need. “Don’t stop.” Serena pulls again, pressing up with her thigh, delights in the way Bernie bites off a swear. 

Bernie’s hips resume their slow grind, Serena’s unrelenting grip encouraging the steady motion. Her head drops back, exposing the elegant length of her neck, the shadowed dip at the base of her throat.

“ _Beautiful_ ,” Serena whispers in something approaching awe, can’t even be embarrassed that she’s said the thought out loud. 

As Bernie settles into a rhythm, rocking against her, Serena leans forward, licking a slow line along the curve of Bernie’s breast. Bernie shifts a bit, and slick wetness bathes Serena’s thigh, has her muffling a groan and catching Bernie’s nipple between her teeth, tugging lightly. 

Every sense is filled with Bernie; the taste of her skin, her sounds, the scent of her arousal, the slip and drag as her hips roll insistently against Serena’s thigh. She encourages her on with firm hands and soft words, murmuring over and over how incredible Bernie is, how beautiful.

All too soon Bernie’s frantic rhythm stutters, fingers digging hard into Serena’s shoulders. She pulls back and looks up just in time, sees Bernie’s mouth drop open, tendons straining, face a grimace of pleasure as she jerks in Serena’s hands again and again. 

The tension leaves her and she slumps forward, panting harshly into the curve of Serena’s neck as she strokes aimless, soothing patterns along her spine.

Rolling to the side, Bernie pulls Serena with her until they’re face to face in the middle of the bed, legs intertwined loosely, sweat cooling on their heated skin.

“You know, I-” Serena throws a hand over her mouth, horrified as her jaw stretches wide in an unexpected yawn. 

“I’ll take that as a compliment,” Bernie laughs, threading her fingers into Serena’s hair and scratching lightly at her scalp. Serena hums contentedly, leaning into the touch.

“You should.” Silence settles between them, but there’s no awkwardness in it; just warmth and a sense of _rightness_. Tiredness dogs the edges of Serena’s mind, her body languid and heavy. 

“Would you like to stay the night?” she asks without thinking, the words only registering once they’re past her lips. A spike of adrenaline jolts through her, the fear that she’s pushing too fast, making too much of this.

A soft, pleased smile curves Bernie’s lips, sets Serena’s heart racing for an entirely different reason. 

“I’d like that very much.”

Serena can’t resist the urge to kiss that smiling mouth, their bodies pressing closer together as their lips move aimlessly in a series of soft, tender kisses that bleed together until Serena loses all track of the world around her. Gradually the kisses become more purposeful, Bernie’s tongue flicking out along her bottom lip. 

Desire flares anew, swirling hot in Serena’s belly. With a twist of her hips, she manages to roll Bernie beneath her, sitting back with a grin and straddling her narrow hips, enjoying the the mixture of surprise and lust on Bernie’s face.

“I thought you were tired,” she asks, even as her hands scribe long strokes up and down Serena’s thighs, raising a flush of goosebumps in their wake.

She leans down until her lips are mere millimeters from Bernie’s, eyes fluttering a bit as the motion brings their breasts together.

“I’ll be tired later. Right now, I can think of much better things to do, can’t you?” Bernie chuckles and nods, eyes sparkling. “Oh before I forget,” Serena says, peppering kisses along Bernie’s jaw. “Remind me to call Sian in the morning. I owe her a thank you.”

Fingers slide into her hair, and Bernie pulls her down for a long thorough kiss, one that makes her toes curl and takes her breath away. Her lopsided grin when they part is nothing less than indecent.

“So do I.”


End file.
